


Out of the Blue

by Heliophile



Category: The Professionals
Genre: AU pre-canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliophile/pseuds/Heliophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first meeting, with a bit of sun, sand and sea as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not mine. Not mine. No justice in this world; not bloody well mine.  
> Oh, and this is unadulterated fluff by the way ...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _With thanks to bsl for beta (all un-excised unrescued-ness is entirely my fault!) and to cornishcat, bsl and probodie for inspiration!_

The sun beat down with unseasonable strength as Ray Doyle leaned against the sea-wall and looked out over the water where the estuary ended and the Irish Sea began. His melancholy at odds with the brightness of the day, he told himself he was thinking about Ann – Ann, whom he had never quite asked to marry him somehow. Ann who seemed to be growing increasingly disenchanted with his company, with his provincial police officer's salary and with his prospects - even if everyone did say he was likely to make Inspector before too long, and might even finish up Chief Inspector if he would just stop getting up his superiors' noses. Well at least they _used_ to say that. And he'd thought of asking her often enough, he'd _meant_ to ask her... but somehow he'd never quite done it. His mother, he knew, had misgivings about Ann although she'd never say so; she feared Ann might come to regret the match, might come round to her own parent's opinion – that Ray Doyle, Detective Constable of the Derbyshire Police Force, represented a distinct step down for the daughter of an Alderman.

Ray sighed. Perhaps it was just as well he'd taken sick leave and come away to Aberdyfi for a bit of peace and room to think. It had always seemed like paradise to him as a kid, scrambling over the rocks with his brother and two older sisters while his father dozed in the shade and his mother kept half an eye on the elder of the marauding children while she hunted through rock pools with the youngest.

The scene was still pretty enough for all the town had grown, though the coast was not nearly as big or as wild as his childhood memories painted it – but this was barely the beginning of summer; even in popular resorts the high season crowds would be nowhere to be seen, and a quiet little backwater like this was practically deserted. Only a couple of local girls and their young men strolled along the front or across the beach, which held fewer charms, Ray supposed, when it was on your doorstep all year round.

He'd have a few days here, a week perhaps or a little more. On leave until he could walk again unaided, without the crutches he was currently using courtesy of a burglar the size of a behemoth who, displeased at being interrupted at his work by a copper who refused to back down, had been forced to leave most of his takings behind but had succeeded in shouldering Ray clear off the staircase as he forced his way past to make his escape, breaking three balusters and Ray's leg in the process. 

The householder's family had been suitably grateful, and there was talk of a commendation to come his way, but he would be inactive for a good while yet. At least it had been a clean break.

Perhaps a clean break from Ann was what he needed, he thought gloomily. Seemed to fancy herself an angel of mercy, Ann did, but Doyle had a feeling she'd enjoyed the picture she'd made at his bedside more than the reality – hadn't taken her long to get impatient with his lack of conversation and short temper when in pain. She didn't seem to understand that long nights of very little sleep, constant aching and boredom were not conducive to the scenes of sick-bed gratitude she seemed to hanker after.

Movement caught his eye at the far end of the beach, where the estuary opened out and the road came down from the little railway station higher up the hillside overlooking the town. Ray could see a small group come tumbling down the steps from the road – squaddies on leave, most like, if the colour of their clothing was anything to go by; must be from one of the handful of training barracks scattered across North Wales. A bit eager, weren’t they – still in uniform, looking for all the world like a class let out of school and unable to wait one second longer than necessary before they could get out onto the sands. They must be staying at the caravan site just by the station, Doyle thought to himself. Looked like they'd stopped barely long enough to dump their kitbags before haring straight down onto the beach ... god, they looked so young. Horsing around like a bunch of overgrown kids, even if in all likelihood they couldn't be all that much younger than Ray himself. Made him feel suddenly old. Some of them would have seen action in Northern Ireland, like as not; could have seen friends cut down or blown apart while he – well, Derby was hardly the crime centre of the western world, was it? He'd seen profiteering, though, and petty crime and underhand deals that had turned his stomach and that he'd done his level best to stamp out. Most people were willing enough to tighten their belts and make do and mend when they had to, but even in a law-abiding place like Derby there were always plenty of spivs – that’s what they were all right, for all they looked and talked like pillars of the community – no better than spivs, sniffing after back-handers. And with development money around, he knew damn well there was more than a sniff of corruption higher up in the town, too, though he'd never been able to prove it. When it came to light that one of his own colleagues was hand in glove with a local councillor selling planning approvals Ray'd never hesitated for a moment, but he knew well enough he'd likely spiked any chances of promotion. He couldn't help wondering if that was why he'd ended up going in on that burglary on his own ...

Doyle brought his attention back to the present, his eye caught by the high-spirited clowning around on the damp sand below him. One of the squaddies had started up an impromptu game of football using half a cork float they'd found in the sand, long since broken off from some fishing net out in the silver-grey estuary. As they kicked and threw their makeshift ball back and forth Ray watched... and envied. Not a one of them but seemed to have more energy, more laughter, more sheer enjoyment of life that he could even remember feeling right now... He shook his head. Self-indulgent rubbish; he’d no reason to feel sorry for himself. He had a job that mattered, he had Anne … well, maybe not. But there hadn't been a villain who could out-run him or a girl who could wear him out on the dancefloor – before the leg, of course.

Suddenly the improvised football came flying straight at his face, accompanied by a warning shout from the beach. Without thinking, Ray's hands shot out and he caught the gritty chunk of cork inches from his nose. The dark-haired would-be striker jogged easily across the sand towards him with a cheerful apology. Good-looking bloke he was, Ray noticed absently. His eyes were very blue... with a quizzical look in them now. Ray shook himself mentally; of course they'd be wanting their ball back. He tossed the float back down with a half-smile to indicate no harm done.

“Nice catch, mate. Don't suppose you fancy a turn in goal, do you? Bit awkward with five of us, could do with a sixth.” Ray shook his head, and after a second the other shrugged and headed back to the game. He turned back after a couple of steps, though. “Come on, be a sport – it's a pain being an odd number – ” Ray sighed, and held up the crutches so that they could be seen beyond the parapet.

“Blimey, what happened to you then? Pick a fight with a bus, eh?”

Ray opened his mouth, having no desire to get into long explanations but unable to think of any reason not to give one – but the impatient shouts of the other players came to his rescue and he contented himself with raising a hand in a vague gesture dismissing the importance of his injury.

“See you around, then – you can tell me later.” He turned and started to jog away. “Name’s Bodie,” he called back over his shoulder. Ray opened his mouth again to answer, but the other man was already moving out of earshot. Would feel a bit stupid to shout after him, after all.

There were only two pubs in Aberdyfi, so it was hardly surprising that Ray – after finding the first one somehow less than exciting after one drink, and slowly making his way to the second to see if it was any more interesting – should find himself sitting at the other end of the bar-room from an increasingly rowdy bunch of squaddies that evening. The dark-haired one with the blue eyes – Bodie – was leaning back against the bar, pint in hand, scanning the room occasionally and had only half his attention on his mates, who had obviously been sinking pints at a fast clip since opening time. His eyes met Ray's, and he raised his glass in brief salute before turning back to the others. 

Somehow their easy camaraderie made Ray feel uncomfortable with his own solitude, and he half turned his back on them to finish his pint. His attention was drawn to them again soon afterwards, however, when two of Bodie's companions – not a little the worse for wear by this juncture – started raising their voices in pointed remarks, apparently taking it amiss that an elderly couple in the corner preferred to speak in their own language; the visitors had seemingly failed to notice that they weren't in England. 

The icy hostility of the rest of the room was unanimous and instant, but before any of the local men had time to do more than glare at them, or Ray to draw breath and rise to his feet, about to call them to order in policeman-like tones, leg be damned – Bodie had clapped one man heavily on the shoulder with his right hand and cuffed the other across the back of the head with his left. Ray couldn't quite catch what he said to them, but the sergeant's tone was clear enough as was the reaction evident in the posture of the two squaddies. For all they looked mutinous and cast some filthy glances round the pub, clearly spoiling for a fight, neither man hesitated before draining their glasses and leaving – presumably to head back in the direction of the caravan site. After a moment, the other two finished their own drinks in more leisurely fashion and followed them out. Bodie swept the room with a smile that somehow managed to be apologetic and blithely unconcerned at once, and bought a round for the elderly couple before apparently making ready to leave. He didn't, though. He hesitated, then looked around again and caught Ray's eye; he turned to the barman and ordered two more pints, and his smile at once became warmer as he walked across the bar-room towards him.

“No social graces, that lot,” he said as he sat down uninvited. “Good lads, mind, but I reckon they were at the end of the line when the decent manners were being given out. Steady enough in a bit of bother, but get 'em on civvy street and they haven't got the common sense of a gnat between 'em. So then, old son, going to tell me how you thought you were going to sort them out with your leg in plaster? Going to kick 'em with it, were you, or hit 'em over the head with one of these?” He grinned, nodding towards Ray's crutches where they leaned against the wall behind him. “Go on, tell us what's your story, eh? Roofer, window-cleaner, ballet-dancer?” - said with a smile that made it impossible to take offence, even if part of Ray bristled automatically at the least implication he might look anything like one. He got enough of that bollocks at work. But Bodie had put the fresh pints down on the table as he sat, and Ray reckoned that in all decency he had no choice really but to tell him about the job, about the burglary – and somehow found himself talking about the absence of backup as well. Bodie was a disconcertingly good listener.

The call for last orders broke in on the intimacy that had grown between them over... was it only three rounds? Seemed longer. But the evening had gone by so quickly... Ray didn't really want to call it a night. Bodie was good company, easy to talk to, had an apparently endless fund of anecdotes and sharp observations about all the countries he – well, claimed to have seen, anyway. Ray reached reluctantly for his crutches. It wasn't far back to his digs, even lame as he was, but he found he didn't want to leave yet. Still, nothing else for it – no such thing as a place with a late license in a town like this, and Bodie'd probably want to head off himself... he didn't quite fancy inviting the bloke back to meet the landlady of a chintzy B&B.

“Not in any hurry, are you? C'n see you're not exactly set for a long stroll, but there's no need to head straight off is there? Come on.”

Ray shrugged inwardly and followed as Bodie headed out over the golf course which was only yards away from the pub door – from here there was nothing else between the road and the water's edge but this scattering of greens and bunkers and ragged fairways, with the caravan site somewhere in the dark out along the station road. He walked slowly out of consideration for Ray's handicap, automatically casting about for the easiest route when even the smooth turf proved a little more difficult to negotiate than the path. It was only a few yards before the ground sloped abruptly down into a bunker, though, and Ray looked sharply at Bodie hoping he wasn't crazy enough to think he could manoeuvre himself down even the gentlest incline. Before he had time to voice this protest he stumbled slightly, and knew a moment of real panic as he envisaged himself falling helplessly into the dip, unable to stop himself wrenching his leg again before he hit the sand at the bottom. He'd barely drawn breath to gasp his dismay before he was caught securely in strong arms and held firmly for what felt like a long-drawn-out moment – far longer than was really necessary. With a smile, Bodie set him back on his one usable foot and then helped him to slide down and sit comfortably just below the lip of the bunker, so that they had the slope at their backs like a giant armchair. Suddenly realising that he was staring, Ray wrenched his gaze away from Bodie's far too good-looking face and looked out over the slope instead, down across two straggling greens to a dim fringe of pale beach and the dark water beyond. It was quiet, except for the constant murmur of the waves.

“I've been thinking about leaving the army,” Bodie said suddenly, without looking at him. He was leaning back, gazing up into a sky crowded with many more stars than Doyle had ever seen in Derby. You could even make out the pale swathe of the Milky Way itself, not drowned out, here, by city streetlights.

“Got asked to try out for this new set-up I heard about. Based in London, it is. Cut above the army they say – _and_ the plods,” he added with a pointed look at Doyle. “Reckon that'd suit me all right” He grinned, unabashed by his own overwhelming self-confidence. “Doesn't sound like prospects are any too rosy for you with the fuzz these days, either,” he added after a pause. “Your superiors must be well chuffed with you, dobbing in one of their own like that, even if you were in the right about it.”

Doyle sighed. “And I'd be such a hit with anyone else, of course. Take one look at my file, they would, and – ”

“So try something really different. This new mob, you should check it out.” Bodie subsided again, lying back against the grassy lip of the bunker and looking up at the stars.

Doyle shivered. The night felt chill whenever the slight breeze rose up. 

“Here.” Bode produced a hip-flask from the cavernous side-pocket of his fatigues. He took a long swallow himself first, and Ray found his eyes drawn irresistibly to the line of Bodie's throat in the moonlight. He forced his gaze away. Fastest way imaginable to destroy all the ease and camaraderie that had gradually grown up between them, that he had been enjoying with the man all evening – no, better by far to keep his eyes – and certainly his hands – to himself, and be content with the pleasure of Bodie's company.

Bodie nudged his shoulder with the flask, and Ray hastily composed his features before turning back away from the dark waters to accept it with a smile and take his own long swallow. The whisky was warm, so warm going down. When Bodie next spoke his voice was a little rougher – must be the cool night air, Ray supposed.

“So – this Ann of yours – sounds like she wasn't the girl for you. But I'll bet you've got dozens more, just lining up for a bite at your cherry, handsome lad like you - ”

“Oi, less of the lad, thank you very much. I must have a couple of years on you, at least”

“Ah, but they're all lining up for a bite at my cherry too you know. And anyway, it's experience that counts, not years on the beat” Bodie countered with an insufferably smug grin. “Girls can't get enough of tall dark 'n handsome - ”

“And engagingly modest, I notice” Ray interrupted him sarcastically.

“I'm told it's one of my better features,” Bodie replied quite undaunted.”But then, I have so many.” 

Ray couldn't help laughing. Bodie was inviting him to laugh at him, smiling, bright-eyed. The man was practically flirting with him, surely? Those looks he kept giving him, eye-contact lingering a fraction longer than it should. And he was the one who'd guided their steps – not drunken, but certainly mellow – away from the pub and out onto the smooth turf of the golf-course. Ray felt suddenly a great deal more sober, and at the same time a great deal warmer and more alert. Surely he couldn't genuinely intend to try something on? Everyone knew the army was full of queer-bashers, but there was nothing like that going on here. So far from showing anything of a bully-boy nature, in fact, this Sergeant Bodie had shown nothing but courtesy to the locals and care for his men not to mention positive concern for Ray's comfort and the limitations imposed upon him by his crutches and useless leg. 

He was somewhat at Bodie's mercy, though, he thought with a flutter in his stomach that might have been alarm – though he knew in truth it wasn't. He had two good hands, after all, even though his crutches were almost out of reach on the lip of the bunker ... still, he felt just a little vulnerable, and cursed himself for a fool for enjoying the sensation – and then just as quickly upbraided himself for being so much of a fool as to imagine there was any real risk involved in the first place. If Bodie really did mean anything, he didn’t seem to be the type who wants men but despises himself for wanting them; Ray had seen enough of that kind on the job. And this – if anything, this was an oddly gentle seduction. If anything. He tried to read Bodie's expression in the moonlight, and failed – and realised too late that his own features were probably revealing far too much of his own thoughts... If Bodie should take offence – if all this were just some strange sense of humour – then the best he could hope was that Bodie would refrain from hitting a man with a broken leg and would simply walk off and leave him to hobble back to his B&B as best he could.

But if Bodie really did have something else in mind... Again his relative helplessness sent a guilty thrill through him, even as he sought refuge in looking out over the water again and hoped that the flush he felt suffusing his face would not show in the dark. It was a thrill, damn it, there was no denying it. And Ray wondered how on earth he had somehow come to feel so safe with this man – so secure, that even imagining himself helpless in Bodie's hands brought a flush of heat to his belly and a fillip of sensation to his prick. He shifted, awkwardly, to hide his reaction.

And then Bodie deliberately took a small but very definite step over the line. He moved close and put his arm around Ray's shoulders, so that he felt the warmth of the other's body all down one side. “It's – cold. Is this all right?” Oh god, yes. All thought of army queer-bashers and Ann and work and respectability and long-gone schoolfriends he’d never dared do more than look at vanished without trace. By some miracle, this man – this beautiful, assured, devastatingly attractive man, at once arrogant and touchingly unsure, really was drawn to him. And was not in the least disgusted with himself for it... 

Ray drew a breath and took a small step of his own. “Yeah. Better’n all right”.

He heard Bodie release the breath he'd been holding and felt some of the tension leave his own body. No, Bodie had definitely not been quite as self-assured as he'd been making out - was maybe even as nervous about all this as Ray was, which meant the guy had a lot of balls. Trying it on with another bloke, even in this day and age, well it was practically asking to get your head stove in or worse – some bastards even got a kick out of picking blokes up just to beat the crap out of them, every copper knew it – trouble was, a lot of them were all in favour. Maybe the broken leg had actually tipped the scales, made Bodie decide to risk it – the thought made him smile, almost laugh, just as he turned back towards Bodie again. So he saw the glorious, beautiful smile that spread across Bodie's face at the sight of his own, and suddenly it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to lean in a little further and brush his lips across Bodie's. He drew back a fraction, heart beating furiously – if Bodie was going to do a Jekyll and Hyde number, it was probably going to be now.

But Bodie brought his other hand up to touch Ray's face and ran his fingers back into Ray's hair, he made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a soft groan and dived right back on in for another kiss, moving his mouth on Ray's and running the tip of his tongue over Ray’s lips until Ray opened his mouth and let him in.

God it was good. Bodie tasted a little of whisky, a little of beer and a lot of ... it must be his own unique flavour, clean and hot and healthy and wanting – wanting him. Wanting Ray, with no holds barred.

Ray found himself flat on his back in the short grass with Bodie half on top of him, and just for a moment this felt unfamiliar enough to make that thrill of not-fear run through him again. Bodie was only a shade taller than he was himself, but he was more solidly built and probably outweighed him by almost a stone. Even without a leg in plaster he'd be hard put to it to get his own way with him – if they weren't in perfect agreement anyway, of course. But the way Bodie was stroking one hand over Ray's body while taking some of his weight on the other – every so often, when he remembered – conveyed nothing but a touching, enchanting mix of half-contradictory, half complementary desires: the desire to simultaneously take care of him, and to ravish him to within an inch of his life. Ray would have told him how much he loved every touch, if he'd been capable of anything more than hanging on while still managing to breathe.

“Bloody beautiful, you are,” Bodie muttered, “couldn't wait to catch up with you again after I saw you on the beach. Thought you might be watching me too – hoped you were – wasn't sure though – wasn't best pleased when Gary 'n that idiot Keith started making arses of themselves in the pub, thought I was going to have to spend the night getting them out of trouble – ”

He'd've done it, too, Ray thought, no matter how much he wanted to be elsewhere. He'd never completely taken his attention off his men until he'd packed them off back to their digs.

Bodie lifted his head again and looked a question into Ray's eyes as he pushed a hand up under his jersey. He fumbled a moment to find the bottom edge of Ray's shirt and undershirt, and with a ghost of a laugh at his own clumsiness hauled the shirt-tails out of Ray's trousers so that he could get a hand on the skin beneath. Ray was finding it decidedly hard to concentrate on anything other than what he was feeling, but he managed to express his wholehearted approval by pulling Bodie's shirt out at the back with desperate urgency and getting one hand on his back, the other firmly grasping Bodie's thigh and caressing the underside of a buttock, dipping his fingers suggestively between Bodie's legs from behind. Bodie moaned and spread them, and Ray felt another, even hotter wave of desire spike through him. The way they'd been talking, he'd somehow assumed Bodie would turn out to be the bulldozer type – that is, if anything happened at all – and that he would want to run everything his own way. He certainly hadn't expected this... pliancy, this ability to somehow listen, to know where Ray's body wanted to go as well as his own. His determination to make sure Ray was all right in every sense – that he wouldn't jar his leg, that he was still on board with what they were doing – no, all this came as almost as much a surprise as the fact that they were doing anything at all.

On board, Ray decided, wasn't the word for it. Nothing he'd ever done with Ann – nothing he'd ever done with _any_ woman, for that matter – had ever taken him so high so quickly. He couldn't get his fingers on enough of Bodie's smooth skin and hard muscle, kissing him frantically as he struggled in vain to get his hand under the unyielding waistband and down the back of Bodie's trousers. Equally frantic with need, Bodie suddenly tore himself out of Ray's grasp, ignoring his sound of protest, and used both hands to attack Ray's trouser button, almost snagging the zip in his haste to get them open. Even now he looked at Ray as if to check that it was permitted, but his gaze was hot and he was very obviously not planning any break in the proceedings – not that Ray could have stopped now, short of the entire golf club committee together with all of his and Bodie's immediate superiors marching over the edge of the bunker to call a halt. Not now, when Bodie might be about to get a hand on him where he was aching for it, would have begged for it in a moment – and oh god, he hadn't been expecting Bodie's _mouth_ , jesus, hot and wet, engulfing him... Ray bit back a cry at the sensation. It was like nothing else he'd ever known. None of his girlfriends had ever made him feel that sucking his cock was what they _wanted_ most in all the world – god, Bodie seemed to bloody love it. It was wonderful – and it was frustrating as hell; he couldn't reach far enough, couldn't move his leg and the only part of Bodie he could touch right now involved getting his fingers in Bodie's hair and he _had_ to touch him back. 

From somewhere he dredged up the strength to say “wait” - Bodie paid no attention. “No, wait -” Bodie looked up at him, eyes black, chest heaving. Ray reached out to him. “I want to -” he didn't know exactly how he wanted them to get where they were going, but whichever way it was he wanted them to get there together. Hauling Bodie up into his arms, Ray heard his own groan of pleasure echoed as their bodies aligned. He'd not realised that Bodie had managed to get his own flies undone while he'd been sucking Ray, and now their fingers met and touched as Ray finally got a hand to Bodie's cock, his balls... and Bodie was losing it now, his hips surging forward as he rubbed against the body beneath him, as Ray hooked his good leg around Bodie's to urge him on and pulled his head down for another kiss. Ray felt the heat gather in the pit of his stomach, felt his balls grow taut and hard, felt every particle of his being come together as he thrust up, tearing his mouth away to gasp for breath and then burying his face in Bodie's shoulder to muffle a long cry that sounded almost like pain. A moment later, convulsing helplessly in the aftershocks, he felt Bodie go rigid in his arms, and then the pulsing heat between them as Bodie came all over his stomach and thighs. Ray wanted to laugh for sheer joy, but had no breath to do it.

His euphoria ebbed soon enough. Finally – finally, to find someone he really wanted, the connection he needed – only to find it in the arms of an army sergeant who would be back on duty in a few days at most, while he – no, he'd head for London too, he decided suddenly. There was nothing for him in Derby – no chance of promotion, not now; no chance of the love-life he knew he'd always be dreaming of now, and certainly no chance of making a go of it with Ann. Her parents would be relieved. They were probably urging her to look elsewhere even now – they'd already thrown eligible young men in her path, he thought, old bitterness turning into relief, and she hadn't seemed to mind. No, she wouldn't miss him. He turned his face back towards Bodie, who was looking at him with a rather wistful smile.

“All right?”

“Better than all right.”

Bodie kissed him again, and they lay close together for a long, long moment while the world turned a fraction further on its way under the stars.

“'Spose we'd better be getting back to our bunks like good little civil servants,” Bodie said in resigned tones after a while. Ray finished rearranging his clothes and Bodie did likewise before helping him to his feet and they turned back to the path together.

“I'll see you back -”

Ray favoured Bodie with a grin that had a hint of a snarl to it. “'M not a bird, you know.”

“Oi, hackles down mate – you can walk me back if you like, but I'm not the one with the fancy boot on.” 

Ray swallowed his momentary flash of temper and they walked in silence. “Tomorrow – ” 

“Ah.” Bodie looked away, embarrassed. “Back to barracks tomorrow. We only had a 24-hour pass.”

Ray felt something cold and heavy take up residence in his stomach. Well of course it was only for a night, he thought – hell, barely a few hours. Why he should have imagined it could be anything more...

“That idea about putting in for a transfer,” Bodie broke in on his thought. “That new unit I was telling you about – all very James Bond -” he flashed a grin at Ray. He wouldn't half make a sexy James Bond, too... “Based in London, like I was saying. Be a lot more independent than I am now, like. Might be able to drop by sometime. If you wanted me to.”

Ray grunted, his stomach contracting again before suddenly feeling considerably warmer. 

Bodie evidently took his lack of response for lack of interest, and went on, “'Course, I expect you've got your busy little policeman's life and all your little coppers to get back to -”

“London,” Ray interrupted him, hand on Bodie's lapel, letting him see the smile on Ray's face and in his eyes. “Funny you should mention London. I've been thinking of a transfer to the Met for a while now – ever since I burnt my boats up here – well, the Met or... They take ex-coppers, this fancy new unit of yours, or do they just want spit-and-polish army types?”

“Dunno. Dunno all that much about 'em, yet, except the bloke in charge is supposed to be a tough bastard but the best there is. Worth a try, you reckon?”

“Yes,” Ray said slowly, dropping his gaze to the lips he couldn't kiss here in the street, not even in the small hours of the morning with no-one about. 

Bodie read his intention, and his eyes were warm. 

“Yes, I reckon it's worth a try.”

They had reached the door of Ray's B&B, and Bodie stood looking at him, hands in pockets, shifting his weight in a way that betrayed his urge to move, his reluctance to leave. “Might want to turn up without the boot on, I suppose,” he said after a moment, adding with a suggestive smile, “but I've always fancied kissing a copper in uniform. You can wear it for me sometime, eh?” 

Ray laughed and shook his head in incredulity rather than refusal. “Off with you then. If it all works out, we can look each other up in London.” He couldn't stop smiling. “Tell you what, I'll wear the uniform if you will – you never know, might even suit you!” 

Bodie pulled a comically horrified face before laughing too. He turned to go, glancing back before he'd gone a yard even as he carried on walking – heavily, now, somehow. Reluctance visible in every step. “All right, I'll take you up on that.” He grinned again, licentiously, adding over his shoulder as he moved away up the moonlit street “Be a rare treat I reckon – I quite fancy my chances of getting you out of the blue!”


End file.
